


Worrywarts

by BlackCats



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Banter, Drabble that went on too long, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Game, Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCats/pseuds/BlackCats
Summary: Link catches a cold. Zelda's got it covered.(Link, Zelda, and one of many stops on the road.)





	Worrywarts

You wake up and you realize immediately that something is wrong.

There’s this…uncomfortable tension in your head, coupled with a dryness in your throat that tastes like you just swallowed all the sand in the Gerudo desert. Something is roiling in your stomach, hot and bubbling in contrast to the beads of cold sweat on your face. You know _exactly_ what’s going on here, but you don’t want to admit it.

Unfortunately, not giving voice to the issue doesn’t make it go away—nor does the princess feel inclined to share your silence.

Her palm presses to your forehead, brushing your hair from your face as she purses her lips. “You’re running a fever,” she says, and you resist the urge to make a wry comment; she’s still your liege, after all.

You open your mouth to deliver a _completely_ respectful but still rejecting remark, when she moves her hand down and places a single dainty finger upon your lips.

“And no, you are _not_ fine.” Zelda stands, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her hands off. “And you will _not_ be moving from this spot until you are better.”

“We can’t stay here,” you croak, wincing at the sound of your own voice. What an excellent frog impersonation.

“Why-ever not?”

“We’ll have to pay for a bed… _two_ beds. Forty rupees a night.”

“Sixty.”

“ _Sixty?_ ”

“ _You’ll_ be getting the extra soft mattress.” She briskly makes her way to your travel bags, which are tucked against the stable’s bedframe.

“We can’t burn this much money, Your Highness…”

Your objection falls on deaf ears. You watch as Zelda takes one of your bows and tests the string, her eyes already alight with some kind of scheme or other. “We shan’t be ‘burning money’. I have an idea.”

You can’t help but smile at that, reluctantly moving your elbows and falling flat against the bed again. “Don’t you always?”

“Please leave it to me. I refilled the waterskins already, and I want you to stay hydrated, all right? There’s also soup on the fire. I’ll fetch it for you.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

Zelda’s smile is exactly the kind of thing you beat back the apocalypse for. “Not at all.”

Across the stable’s room of beds, an elderly traveler meets your eyes and cracks an imaginary whip, showing a snaggletoothed grin. You bite back a groan.

It’s going to be a long day.

~***~

As the day progresses, you spend it alternating between sleeping and _pretending_ to sleep. You would’ve preferred to fall ill in the wilderness and take your chances with your sleeping roll and a campfire, because being ill in the stables means getting to watch everyone come in and out while merchants and strangers and wanderers of all types come over and titter about how sick and pale you look.

“You know, I’m not surprised,” begins one adventurer, her hair damp and dripping. “It’s these thunderstorms! They’d make _anyone_ fall ill! Even a big strong swordsman like you!”

“I’ve ridden through worse,” you say, thinking of all the terrible things Epona had bravely charged through, up to and including the Calamity Ganon itself.

“But it’s always _your_ type, you know? The kind that never catch colds? Because then you’ll get _the big one_ …Is it the big one now? It sure does look like the big one. Just the other day, I met this fellow on the road who told me a rumor about an illness that _paralyzes_ folks! What will you do if you end up paralyzed?! Oh! That reminds me of this gentleman from a seaside village who became paralyzed because of a jellyfish that hit him right between the—"

You don’t even feel like dignifying any of this with a response. Your exasperation must’ve been clear to the innkeeper-slash-stablemaster, because he comes over to shoo the traveler away from your bedside. Thank the gods!

You wish you could say she’s the last person to try and strike a conversation with the Hero of Hyrule, but she’s not. Far from it, in fact.

You’re just about ready to draw the drapes closed on the bed after the third visitor—despite Zelda’s insistence that the fresh air will do you good—when you spot the princess approaching from the western doorway. She grabs a stool and pushes it over, taking a seat.

“How are you feeling, Link?”

You grunt, having already used most of your energy attempting to hold a polite conversation with a talkative geezer from before.

“I figured as much…Here. I want you to drink this. No buts!”

She holds out an elixir in a glass vial that’s both transparent and sea-green. You don’t recognize it, which isn’t very surprising, considering Zelda’s vast knowledge in the fields of alchemy and science. You tended to create a broad array of items in a handful of narrow, combat-oriented categories.

Still.

“What’s in it?”

“Nothing worse than what you’ve had in the past.”

A memory tickles the edges of your mind. Though your amnesia has largely faded, there’s still a few spotty areas, lost beneath a century of gathering dust.

You feel like it involved…centipedes.

“…Link? What’s that look for?” Zelda’s voice is warm with suppressed laughter.

“Nothing.”

You drink the elixir. It tastes like you just ripped up a handful of grass and shoved it down your throat—something you only know about from the rare times you were thrown from the back of a bucking beast and face-first into the dirt. You can’t help but make a face, shuddering slightly at the abrupt, acrid aftertaste.

When you cough out a mouthful of smoke, however, you forego all pleasantries.

“ _Zelda_.”

“It’s harmless, Link!” She’s quick to reassure, laughing. Her fingers find your face, tracing soothing patterns, tucking strands of golden hair behind your ear. “I promise. It’s an old Goron recipe I learned from Daruk. I hope you’ll forgive me for exacerbating the fever a little, but it’ll be fine.”

She drenches a cloth with some water and lays it across your forehead. You’re expecting her to pull back, but instead, her hand comes down to hold one of yours. The touch of her skin is soft against the many calluses and scars you bear.

The sun’s shining, inviting the visitors of the stables away from the confines of the inn and out to the mingling area. The innkeeper politely turns his attention to the horses, and you’re both mercifully alone, for the moment.

Despite being sicker than a dog and somewhat queasy, you’re bizarrely happy. You still can’t believe that it’s really happening, that you’re here—with _Zelda_ —exploring the world a century later…

You think about the other Champions, and sigh. At least the gods had been kind enough to leave you a friend.

“What are you thinking about?” Zelda murmurs, voice gentle, as though not to scare the silence.

“…Sorry for the trouble.”

Her eyes widen. “ _Trouble?_ You don’t mean _this_ , do you?”

When you don’t reply right away--in truth, you’re apologizing for much more—she chuckles, her other hand coming up to close around yours.

“It’s no trouble. If anything, I’m happy to be the one caring for you, for once.”

You smile at her as she traces circles on your wrist, and decide to leave it at that.

“…So, what are we going to do about the rupees?”

“Link, why are you acting as though you’re not uncomfortably burdened with money?”

“I-It’s different when I’m on my own…!” you protest weakly. Two people, twice the food, twice the expenses…you’re not really concerned about yourself, but you’re determined to give Zelda the best of _everything_ after the century-long torment she but recently endured. Many were still (understandably) skeptic of her being Princess Zelda in the flesh, and Zelda herself would never take anything without properly paying for it anyway, so you’re just trying to be careful!

“Always the worrywart. Did I not say I had an idea?”

“Yes…?”

“It’s nothing elaborate. I’ve been hunting some animals and collecting materials for elixirs for electric-resistance, which in turn I’ve sold to travelers for protection against the storms. Though I’m afraid I’ve had to rely on your stores of monster parts, since I’m _certain_ I’d have to drag you back to bed if you even so much as heard a _rumor_ of me going after monsters on my own.”

Her tone’s dry, but playful.

“You’re not wrong,” you say mildly.

“I’ll have you know my archery has improved by leaps and bounds.”

“I know, but the monsters around here…”

Zelda kisses the back of your hand, and you fall silent immediately.

“Worrywart,” she chides again, her lips curving into a grin that you _feel_. Your heart beats a little faster.

Unfortunately, she notices.

“I do wish I could kiss you,” Zelda says so nonchalantly that it takes you a moment to realize her words. You wheeze and stifle a shocked cough. She continues undeterred. “But I’m already taking a risk as it is just by doing this much. We can’t _both_ fall ill.”

True. Still, you’re not thinking about that. You’re thinking about that impish light in her blue, blue eyes as she continues to observe your flustered state with obvious amusement. You drop your free hand over your face and stare up at the ceiling of the canopy bed.

She squeezes your hand. “Get some rest, please. For me?”

“I will.”

“Good. I’ll be back.”

Satisfied, she readjusts the cloth on your forehead that you just partially dislodged, standing in a graceful movement to leave the stables.

You grab her wrist.

This time it’s her turn to fluster, pink scattering across the bridge of her nose as you push yourself up, staring right at her.

“Be careful, okay?”

Sometimes, she turns shy under your gaze. Now is one of those times. Zelda glances away, smiling without thought, without realization. “I will. I promise. So _rest_.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” you say lightly, and let her go.

Falling back onto the (unbelievably soft) pillows at your back, you sigh, watching the sway of her golden hair as she steps outside, turning into blazing gold.

It’s a lot more fun, you think, to travel alongside someone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I (finally) got a Switch and Breath of the Wild recently, so I felt like writing a little something to celebrate the occasion. I'm sure more inspiration will strike me as I play, and hopefully I'll be able to put something else out on my favorite pairing that isn't Cliche(tm).  
> Link is always interesting to write, because his depiction changes quite a lot from game to game.


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